Ill
by TheQueenofBooks1000
Summary: When Jane has fallen ill at Pemberley, it's up for her brother-in-law Darcy, to the rescue! Regency one-shot.


**A bit of Jane and Darcy bonding time. You know, I rarely read a fic talking about _their _friendship or anything. So here ya go, folks! Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN P&P.**

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Mrs. Jane Bingley clutched the sheets tightly, shudders wracking her delicate frame as she coughed, again and again.

Gasping for breath, she reached out to ring for the maid. The bell was too high up; infinitely, it seemed, beyond her reach. Mustering all her strength, she gripped the bedpost and tried to pull herself up. She had little success, however, as a wave of pain engulfed her lungs, and she had naught to do but to cough, yet again.

She buried herself in the bedding, keeping her eyes firmly shut. She was completely miserable, though not for her self, despite her sickly condition. Her sweet disposition prevented her from feeling any pain for anyone but for that of the others. _It is my fault, _she thought forlornly, _that I cannot have the pleasure of my sister's company. It is my own folly that creases poor Charles's brow every night with worry. And my brother Darcy—what must he think of me, falling ill on such a beautiful day in _his_ house! _

These notions brought little comfort, but it did bring about another round of coughs.

Mr. Darcy, who was returning from his study to the library, happened to pass his sister-in-law's door. The dreadful sounds pouring out of her bedchamber caught his attention, and he paused.

"Mrs. Bingley?" he called softly.

Between gasps and coughs, she managed to breathe, "Yes, Mr. Darcy?"

"Are you well? Should I send for the apothecary?"

He had to press his ear against the door, for her answer was so weakly uttered. "I am fine, sir, I just need to rest. I already saw the doctor this morning. Lizzy arranged it."

Darcy frowned. _Lizzy. _That was who Jane needed. Unfortunately, Elizabeth had to visit the tenants. She had spoke of her anxiety of leaving Jane alone, but Jane herself had insisted that she not abandon her duties for her invalid of a sister...the tenants, she knew, loved their Mrs. Darcy dearly, and she would not have it that they'd miss a visit for her own sake.

On a similar note, Darcy was also aware that Bingley was supposed to meet an old acquaintance today near Dovedale, to introduce him to his new wife—but Jane had apparently refused him to stay with her; it would not do for his friend, who was likely anticipating their arrival, be faced with the disappointment of having no company today. She assured him that she would personally call on him the instant she felt better.

Darcy shook his head, slightly amused. Jane was just too good.

"Jane," he addressed her less formally this time, if only to make her feel at ease, "would you like Georgiana to stay with you? I assure you that she is excellent company."

He had not yet finished his sentence when she answered with a series of coughs that sounded vaguely painful. He winced, and added, "May I get you anything? A glass of water, perhaps?"

Jane smiled weakly at Darcy's thoughtfulness, and chose to address him less formally as well. "No, Fitzwilliam. I thank you, but dearest Georgiana might catch whatever malady I have, and that would not do, not at all. As for the water...you are too kind, sir, but I am perfectly capable of fetching a glass for myself."

_Oh, Jane! _Darcy admired her genuine kindness, but her unwillingness to let other people help her was exasperating. If he did not know any better, he would have said that sweet-tempered Jane had her fair share of pride as well.

But he would not jump to conclusions (that was a propensity of his wife, after all, not his), so instead he said firmly, "Jane, you are my guest, and I am responsible for your well being. I would not want you to be ill for your entire stay at Pemberley." In a gentler voice, he added, "I want you to enjoy yourself as well, dear sister."

Mrs. Bingley's heart swelled at such kindness displayed by Darcy, along with the affection that he usually reserved for her sister or Elizabeth. It brought her joy that he had considered her his sister. So much joy, in fact, that it nearly triggered a complete coughing fit, which she had to restrain with all her might. Instead, she croaked, "Come in then, William."

Smiling at her casual use of his name, he gently pushed the door open.

He was astonished, to say the least, and perhaps a bit horrified, when he saw Jane. Her complexion was pale, with a sickeningly greenish hue, her lips were death white, and she was drenched with sweat—enough for anyone to assume that she had just been through a swim in the lake.

He shook his head at her. "Jane!"

She looked at him a bit defensively. "Yes?"

"Why did you not let anyone take care of you?" He stepped forward gingerly, and when Jane did not move away, he continued the steps and felt her forehead. Once again, he was nearly floored. "You have a burning fever!"

"I do?" Jane's eyes were beginning to close. "'Tis no wonder, then, that I feel like I was tossed into the furnace."

Despite himself, Darcy smiled again. She sounded a lot like Lizzy when she said that. But concern immediately took over, and he briskly instructed, "Wait here," and was about to quit the room, when he heard a moan of absolute despair.

It happened all too fast. Suddenly, Jane felt her stomach lurching. Suddenly, she was pushing Darcy out of the door frame, nearly sending the master of Pemberley stumbling off his feet. Suddenly (and much to both their horror), Jane had emptied the contents of her stomach right in the middle of the hall.

Jane began to weep, looking at him with anguish in her eyes. "Oh, William," she sobbed, "I am so sorry."

Recovering slightly from her exceedingly unpleasant display, he managed to choke out, "For what?"

"For...for soiling your floor!" And with that, she dissolved into tears.

Darcy frowned, puzzled. "Jane, it was not anything that you could have helped." She did not desist, so he had to resort to patting her awkwardly on the back. "Jane," he said softly. She did not reply. "Jane!" he said, perhaps a bit more sharply that he intended. Jane looked at him in shock, and her sobs quickly intensified.

Darcy felt like a cad. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Do you still need a...uh, a chamber pot?" At the shake of Jane's head, he then inquired, "Then may I please escort you back to bedchamber, Mrs. Bingley?"

She nodded, and tearfully held on to his arm for support as he led her back to her bed. He took the blankets and spread them over her quivering frame. Then, he took one of the clean handkerchiefs neatly pressed on the nightstand, dipped it in the cool water of the basin next to her bed, and lay it on Jane's forehead. Worriedly, he stood over her, waiting for any indication of discomfort.

Finding none, he immediately mumbled his excuses and rushed out to find help.

After seeking the help of Mrs. Reynolds, and managing to pry Georgiana from her beloved pianoforte (it can be rather difficult for her to notice pay attention to anything else when she was so engrossed in her music), the unlikely trio headed straight to Jane's room.

Mrs. Reynolds sent a maid to clean up Mrs. Bingley's mess, and Georgiana was brought a few books that she thought Jane might enjoy, along with a fan to help her cool down somewhat.

When they reached her room, Mrs. Reynolds wasted no time fussing about their sick guest, urging her to drink some tea and eat some bread, while Georgiana told her stories while swinging her fan back and forth, creating a pleasant breeze that Jane found most refreshing. Darcy only stood by the doorway, intently watching them.

Soon, Jane's complexion regained some of it's color, and her coughs ceased. But, in a hoarse voice, she said:

"I thank you for your attentions, Mrs. Reynolds, Georgiana. While I still find myself weak, I feel much better than when the day started. If I may sleep until supper, that would be splendid."

Mrs. Reynolds believed that she needed more sustenance, but nevertheless, she acquiesced. "Of course, Mrs. Bingley."

Georgiana nodded. "Sweet dreams, Jane."

Jane smiled sleepily at them as they left her room. Darcy stayed for a minute longer, watching her face. When he was satisfied that she was comfortable, he prepared to follow the ladies when Jane said, "And of course, I find that I cannot repay your acts of kindness towards me, Fitzwilliam."

She still gazed at him with no small amount of mortification. He smiled kindly at her. "Think nothing of it, Jane."

"Well," she said sheepishly, "I apologize for ruining my first visit to Pemberley."

Darcy chuckled softly. "If anything, I should be the one indebted to _you, _madam, for I cannot imagine what caused you to be sick, though I am certain that it had something to do with your stay here. Perhaps it was the food?"

Jane shook her head, before a smile crossed her face. "No, sir, I believe that there is a far more wonderful explanation for my malady."

He looked at her incredulously. "And I suppose that the puddle in the hall is also something of a 'wonderful explanation'?" Jane nearly blushed, but, catching the mischievous glint in his eye, she laughed instead.

"You have learned a lot from Lizzy, but it is clear to me that you still have not adopted her philosophy," she said. She imitated Elizabeth's impertinent smile, before saying, in an almost exact replica of his Lizzy's voice, "Think only of the past as it gives you pleasure."

Looking at her in amazement, Darcy realized that Jane, though wholly different, still had plenty of similarities with his wife than he had previously imagined. That made him realize that, while he still did not know that much about her, getting to know her would probably be a pleasurable experience.

"And how, madam, am I to gather pleasure from my sister's illness?" he asked, the corner of his mouth curving up.

Her countenance was suddenly serious. "This is not the first time that this has happened."

"What, the coughing?"

"No, the...vomiting." There, she blushed, averting her eyes.

"What? You must be ill, indeed! We must send for the doctor at once!"

Jane only smiled. "No, William."

"No?"

"I spoke with Dr. Smith today, remember? What he said was—" She broke off, smiling once again. "I have not told Charles yet, nor Lizzy, but..." She looked at him straight in the eye. "William, I think...you are to be an uncle. Soon."

Darcy was stunned, before a broad smile crossed his lips. On impulse, he embraced her. "I am thrilled for you and Charles," he exclaimed. "You are most fortunate."

She smiled at him radiantly. "I know! Oh, I do know. I only wish that you and Lizzy will be so fortunate, as well."

"We are working on it," he chuckled. "Now, go back to sleep, little sister."

Later on, among the effusions of everyone after Jane informed them of her condition, Jane smiled at Darcy and Elizabeth, and asked them if they could be the godparents. They agreed most enthusiastically, and Jane bestowed a kiss on their cheeks, much to Elizabeth's surprise.

"And since when did you and Jane become best of friends?" she teased him later that night. "I distinctly remember you telling me something about how she smiles too much."

Darcy raised his eyebrows defensively. "I did not say it like it was a bad thing! And for your information, it was _I _who served as her nurse today."

"Indeed?" Elizabeth smiled that playful grin that he loved so much. "I do hope, William, that you do not mean that you have taken to wearing dresses, as well? And I remembered Mrs. Reynolds telling me about how _she _fed Jane, and how she did most of the work while you stood by the door like some scarecrow!"

He laughed. Then, wrapping her tightly in his arms, he whispered, "Now, why don't we catch up with Jane and Bingley?"

"In what respect, sir?"

"A child, Lizzy."

Her only response was to laugh and kiss him soundly on the lips.

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**Rushed, I know, but hey, I tried. Plus, it's nearly seven in the morning, and I haven't gotten a wink of sleep. Please review!**


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